The Return of Light; Imbolc Blessings

Standing in a large field of golden wheat, I survey my surroundings; a sea of luminous gold bordered by a brown and green forest.
Hm, I don’t know what type of trees those are..
My view is instantly blocked as the growing wheat stalks increase their height around me, growing taller and taller before my eyes.  Surging, spiraling and dancing towards the sky, the golden light dampens into darkness as stalks twist and weave romantically together, leaving me in just a small drop of a crop circle about as wide as an arm’s reach. I instantly drop down and hug my knees.
He steps through, a regal looking man, wearing a headdress made of feathers and a cover made of animal skin. He looks at me with a worn expression. I look up at him, staring into his brown eyes surrounded by weather-beaten skin. Before I could pose my question to him, my thoughts are seduced out of my mouth and soundlessly tossed into the air by a soft breeze. There they floated. He turns to exit the wheat cocoon, motioning me to follow and leads me into the heart of the abundant field. I follow, all the while looking up at a brilliant sky that is barely visible through the tall wheat stalks. Wordlessly, we cut through the endless gold until we meet its threshold. I peer into the depths of the forest.
We move at an accelerated rate through the dense thicket of trees and brush; our feet not touching the ground and my agile guide always several paces ahead of me. Branches whip by my head one by one and I can feel the momentary, yet ever increasing sensation of pine needles against my neck, arms and face. Each brush of contact a different experience than the next, as needle after needle coolly trickles down the neck of my shirt.
He stops suddenly and stares. I bring my own motion to a standstill as I meet beside him. My eyes follow his gaze and I am led to a pile of gray stones at the base of a mountain. The stones begin to tremble and rattle, clacking against each other in some sort of geological chatter. I watch as they rise up one at a time and dance into the air; rolling, rotating, stacking and assembling into place to form a large entrance, shaped much like a crooked teardrop entering into the side of the mountain. This tear drop instantly animates to life, rising and falling in crests and valleys in a circular motion around the base of the mountain, like ocean waves made of rubble. Finally the movement subsides and the doorway opens up like a mouth to the interior of the mountain. I step forward and inquisitively look into the open mouth, my vision sifting through the moisture of earthen aromas, only to make out an outpouring of darkness followed by the smallest pinprick of light.
I enter the tunnel alone, feeling the condensation radiating off the walls just out of reach of each fingertips as I carve my way to the light on the other end.
Twenty feet.. Fifteen feet.. Ten feet.. Five feet..
I finally make my way to the new opening and pause in a beam of light shining into the tunnel. I squint, allowing my eyes to adjust to this brightness. As I scan the scene outside, my gaze is met by a gorgeous, gushing waterfall, emptying confidently into a small pool surrounded by lush, green grass. I exit the tunnel and walk up to the edge of this pool, feeling the misty water vapors hanging delicately in the air take shape against my face. I breathe in the magnificence of this large waterfall. I then look down into the water and ask, “How does someone heal from wounds of the past?”

Like a ragdoll, I am instantly plucked from the bank and pulled downward into the pool. Arms outstretched and flailing around like a sock caught in a spin cycle, I struggle as the rushing water and undertow push and pull me in all directions. Deeming the fight useless, I surrender into the rhythm of the white water. Silence. I am pulled downward, deeper into the coolness of the pool until I touch down and lay serenely on the very bottom. I sit up and stare at the chaotic water scene, churning and twisting above me. Surrounding me the water is a calming, blue-green quiet encased in electric green algae.

What am I doing here?
My palms begin to vibrate; I look down at them curiously as I observe two openings form on the center of each palm. Very Curious.  As the vibration continues the frequency intensifies, fluttering my palms open until *BLOOP* out pops a flower bud. The vibration stops. The flower buds begin to bloom, transforming into two pink flowers. My palms release each flower to float silently in the water amongst the algae. They begin to dance once more… *BLOOP* as a second set of buds sprout out of each palm. I stare in wonderment as, cornflower blue flowers this time, bloom and release into the water. Up and out they go, following the meditative drift of the current. The progression continues; vibration, bud, bloom, vibration, bud, bloom, as this steady flow of flowers snowballs into a squall. The flowers bloom over and over again, while their elder siblings drift in the lazy current, making their grand voyages to the far reaches of the pool. Waves of brilliant pink, blue, orange, purple, red and magenta flowers, now confidently cascading out of each palm, begin to crowd and fill every square inch of space around me. Then like a bunch of thirsty dish sponges, the mass of flowers simultaneously breathes in a collective inhalation and soaks up every last ounce of water.

I watch in fascination as the waterlogged flowers rise up out of the now empty pool and float upwards towards the sun like a group of cheerfully feral helium balloons at a child’s birthday party.

So here I am at the bottom of an empty pool, covered in mud and caked in bright green algae. I look down at the pool floor and lying before me is a silt-covered locket attached to a very thin sparkling chain. I pick up this locket and examine its exterior while simultaneously wiping away years of silt to reveal a golden finish. Eyeing its hinge, I carefully open it to reveal an interior of several tiny, round, clear glass lenses. Looking through the bulk of these lenses, I see embedded on the other side of the locket a weathered, but unmistakable, human tooth. One by one I delicately thumb each lens and notice that they all offer varying degrees of magnification. I continue to flip through each lens, turning them over like pages in a tiny book, consequently changing the size, shape and appearance of the tooth with an eerie funhouse mirror effect. Upon flipping over the final lens, I reveal the raw, completely exposed tooth void of any manipulated appearance. I watch as the tooth promptly rises out of the locket and hovers before me, free floating in midair. I stare in bewilderment as the decaying tooth starts to spin, building a momentum that sheds the years of erosion, transforming the enamel into a brilliant gold. Satisfied with itself, the tooth gently touched back down, nestling itself back inside the embrace of the locket. I retrace my steps, flipping back through the slides examining the sleek and stunning new appearance of this gorgeous golden tooth. I hear the words ‘see through the eyes of love’ echo in my ears. I close the locket and place it back down on the muddy floor of the empty pool.
I gather and separate myself from my nest of mud and bright green algae and crawl up the side of the bank near the waterfall, making my way back to the opening in the mountain. My walk turns into a jog as I feel my fingertips grazing the mud-caked walls of the mountain tunnel. My pace increases further as the familiar forest light and fragrance draws me out the other side where I am instantly picked up by the *thump*thump*thump* of the drum.
Faster and faster I hear its cadence, motivating me to increase my speed through the trees, pine needles brushing my face and trickling down the nape of my neck. Running through the field, feeling the heat of the sun above me, radiating off the cascading wheat and glistening on my face.. I run faster against the *thump*thump*thump* of the beating drum..
The drum ceases.
I stop in the middle of the golden sea and look up towards the sun.

When you are born, many believe you are perfect in your newness. You are identified as the being that is one breath away from source; a pristine manifestation of spirit not affected by thoughts, behaviors, actions and beliefs of culture and society.

The innocent calm before the storm.

As we grow, we seem to believe this effortless identity is lost as a result of influence by our environment; family, friends, relationships and experiences that inspire our decisions, goals, actions, thoughts, responses and behaviors trying to ultimately quench this internal thirst of where we lost this identity. All we are equipped with to decode this mystery are our experiences, interactions and life lessons with what we encounter around us. This means that we are on a constant external search to find what we truly ‘are’.

- And that’s just it. These things are external.

If we entered perfection as an effortless breath of human consciousness, how is anything external going to aid us in this search for the identity that we supposedly lost? The labels, categories, genres, professional titles, although fun and exciting, are slipped on like clothing and eventually discarded once they have served their temporary purpose. They are mere shots in the dark at an attempt to describe this consciousness that looks through your eyes, day after day.

Emotions, behaviors, grudges, insults, also do not quench this thirst of describing this identity. These are all temporary manifestations and outward expressions, none of which are worthy of being this lost identity.

As humans who are endlessly involved in this outward search to ‘find’ this indescribable flawless identity through labels, we often get caught in a continuous loop of identifying ourselves as our experiences and behaviors. Over our lifetime, this accumulates ‘baggage’; a term describing emotions, behaviors, limitations and barriers we subconsciously cultivate in the aftermath of an experience or situation that we also begin to identify as. If we instead remind ourselves that we are not our emotions, behaviors or experiences, then our ‘baggage’ slips away as the temporary manifestation that is.

When thought of in this way, it is possible to begin stripping away the emotions, labels and ‘baggage’ we come to think of as identity, much like tight or constricting clothing.

What does that leave?

The identity we never lost. The newborn expression of life that sees and experiences everything for the first time.

When I say that I love every being on earth, it means my heart is cutting through the accumulation of false identities and gazing with love into the eyes of the true identity of every being. The identity who sees everything and accumulates nothing. When all of your labels and experiences instantly dissolve, I love the real you. The consciousness that looks without judgment and sees through the eyes of love.

Happy Imbolc!
PLC

Shaemus In The Dream Field

Shaemus In The Dream Field